


Pay for my Netflix and I'm yours for life

by Signe_chan



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Getting Together, M/M, but other than that AOU compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts like this. Tony signs Clint up to a mail order bride dating site for a laugh. He's trying to help, really, probably. Clint decides to delete the account as soon as he finds out about it but Tony's been chatting to someone in his name and it'd be impolite to quit without saying goodbye...</p><p>It also starts like this. Pietro decides it'd be funny to sign Wanda up to a mail order bride site. She'd been annoying him lately so she deserves some payback. He'll just chat to a bunch of guys then dump it on her. Only there's this one guy...</p><p>Can a relationship that started in lies really come to anything? Or can you sometimes find things you didn't even know you needed in the last place you'd ever thing to look?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Trojie for beta reading! <3 <3 <3

It started like this.

Tony was drunk. Probably. He had been drinking, but he was also at the level of exhausted where everything started to feel like he was drunk even when he was sober.

It wasn't that he hadn't tried to sleep, it was that sleep was apparently a thing that happened to other people. He'd lain in bed besides Pepper while she slept peacefully. He'd watched her. He'd tried not to toss and turn. He'd run through everything in his mind over and over again. He'd thought about the wormhole and the glowing stick of destiny and about Loki and dying, run over the entire thing over and over again in his head. What could he have done differently? What would he do differently next time? Would there even be a next time? How had his life come to this? He'd never wanted this.

He tried to focus on other things as a distraction. He couldn't stop alien invasions when he was sleep deprived so he needed to sleep and fixating wasn’t going to help anyone. Instead he could wonder what kind of things he could put in an apartment to tempt Natasha to move in. Or Steve. He knew they were both still with S.H.I.E.L.D. but, whatever. He could think about what he was going to do with Banner in the lab tomorrow. Could think about the ridiculous things Fury apparently wanted them to do to train together as a team now the World Security Council had calmed down a bit and stopped trying to nuke the planet. But none of those thoughts were enough to chase away the clawing anxiety for long. 

So he’d gotten out of bed. He'd started drinking as a way to shut down the circling throughs, but it had only made them more sluggish. Then, finally, he'd stumbled on a problem he could solve. Or that he thought he could solve. 

Really stumbled on it. There was a pop up ad. One of those ridiculous 'hot Russian girls waiting for your fascist American cock' things, but it got him thinking. Barton was always whining about being alone, right? Okay, not always and not whining, but he'd mentioned it a few times and Romanov teased him about it so it was clearly a thing. A thing Tony could fix.

He didn't open the pop up. He was drunk and exhausted, not stupid. He DID search for a better foreign bride site. Not that he was going to buy Barton a woman, but he was going to sign him up.

It'd be hilarious.

Tony got JARVIS to find a picture from the security feed and trimmed it. Wrote up a bit of a biography (what did Barton like? Heights? Birds? Arrows?) and posted it.

Then he passed out on his bench and didn't wake up for nearly nineteen hours, at which point he'd forgotten about the entire thing.

So, well, Tony did start it but he could hardly be held responsible. He hadn't been in his right mind and he had just been trying to help.

But that was how it all started.

***

It also started like this.

Pietro hated his sister. He really did. He'd had a long day serving bad food to tourists who couldn't even be bothered to learn how to say please and thank you in their own language, never mind his. All he'd wanted was to come home and eat the greasy pizza he'd saved from the night before. That was all.

The box had been there, wedged sideways into their tiny fridge. He'd pulled it out, almost salivating at the thought of what was waiting for him. He'd opened the box...to find a bad drawing of a sad faced stick figure (it was probably meant to be him) and Wanda's signature.

He really, really hated her.

Especially since there hadn't been anything else in the fridge or the cupboards so he was starting to feel the bite of hunger in his stomach. Not badly yet, but enough. Wanda probably thought he'd get fed at the restaurant. Sometimes he did if they overcooked. Just not tonight.

But he wasn't being generous in his thoughts towards her. He wasn't. Because she'd eaten his pizza and it had been his.

Something of that scale demanded a response of equal measure. He considered going into her room and messing with her stuff but she'd only turn that back on him. No, it had to be something she wouldn't find out about until later and something that she couldn't turn back.

He was browsing the internet and plotting when he saw the pop up. It was too perfect, it really was. It took him only a few minutes to track down a 'legitimate' site and sign Wanda up for a profile. They shared the computer so he found a picture of her easily enough and the rest was simple. It didn't even cost anything as he was signing up as a woman from Eastern Europe. Perfect, since he was broke.

Then he sent off a few messages to the first few losers he encountered. Some flattering bullshit about how handsome and virile they looked. If a few replied then he'd talk to them, string them along for a couple of days, then dump the entire thing on Wanda. Maybe share the profile link with someone they knew first.

He went to bed with his stomach empty but heart full of the outraged look Wanda would get when she saw what he'd done.

***

ScarletBitch: Hey, handsome. You look like one hell of a man. So strong. Want to message with me?

Tony read the message three times, then went back to check that he'd actually used a picture of Barton on the profile. Yes, he had. Definitely.

Apparently he'd found the only blind dating site user in Eastern Europe. Or, more likely, she thought Clint looked like he had money.

Either way, Tony knew that this would be the appropriate time to delete the account. The message had been sent some time in the early morning, this ScarletBitch chick would have given up by now anyway and in the harsh light of day he could see that it really wasn't fair for him to use Clint's image like that without telling him. As well intentioned as it had been, he should never have set up the account...

He looked over to the lab where there was still an arrow sticking out of Dum-E. It would take far too long to fix that and Dum-E'd be useless until Tony did (not that he wasn't useless normally, it was just the principal of the thing).

The mature adult thing would be to delete the profile, but Tony didn't always feel very much like being a mature adult.

Hawkguy: Hey, cutie. you looking for a big, strapping American to rock your little world?

***

Three days later Tony had calmed down enough about the arrow incident to realise that it was actually probably pretty morally dubious to pretend to be Clint online. By then he'd exchanged quite a few messages with ScarletBitch, though. Found out she was really called Wanda and she had a pretty wicked sense of humour. She wasn't bad looking in her picture either. Seemed a shame to waste the opportunity. Clint was still 90% moping (10% being an ass) and could probably do with a cute girl chatting with him to cheer him up.

So, instead of deleting it, Tony just had JARVIS send the profile and login details to Clint's computer with a brief letter of apology and got on with his day. After all, he was a genius. He had better things to do than worry about Clint Barton's personal life.

***

This was how it came to be that one evening, when Clint was mindlessly playing tower defence games, minding his own business, and very pointedly not thinking about Loki and mind control and collateral damage, his screen was suddenly taken over by a European bride site with what looked very much like a profile for him.

He jumped, hand jerking back from the mouse, and had about half a second to worry about how much Tony was going to kill him for getting a virus in the system when a message popped up on top of it.

"Hey," the message read. "I kind of signed you up for this. I was drunk. Wanda's an okay kid. You should chat to her."

In the space of a few second Clint went from worrying that Tony was going to murder him to wanting to murder Tony, because the note wasn't signed but there was really only one person who could have sent it.

Clint'd meant to delete the account straight away, he really had. The last thing he needed in his life was a goddamn mail order bride. The problem was Wanda. A person. Tony'd been using the stupid profile, pretending to be Clint, and talking to some poor girl who was going to notice if he suddenly disappeared. Clint wasn't that much of an asshole.

Under torture he might have also admitted to being a little bit curious about the sort of woman Tony had found for him. But only under torture.

She was good looking. Too young for him. definitely, but he'd have gone there in his younger days. Tony had also been talking to her for days and had left her no explanation before handing the account over. Clint wasn't enough of an ass to leave the poor kid hanging.

So he sent a quick hello then sat back to wait for her to log on. Then he'd explain and delete his account. Simple.

***

There were days that were better and there were days that were worse. This was a day that was worse.

The worst thing about today was that there wasn't even anything specifically wrong. Pietro hadn’t seen anything that reminded him of their parents. He hadn't had a flashback to those long days of lying there, scared to move, his stomach cramping, the unexploded bomb inches from his face. He hadn't even had a scare with Wanda, she seemed to be having a good day.

He still wasn't having a good day. He was having the opposite of a good day.

He just couldn't seem to stop thinking about his parents. It was that kind of day. Every time he saw a kid with an adult he got a pang for all the times he'd never had with his parents. All the times Wanda had never had. All the ways everything would be easier if he'd just had them with him.

It was the kind of day where he got stuck on the most insignificant thing. He kept thinking about one time, just one time, when his mum had been mad enough with him to smack him. A light smack on the shoulder but it had stung and he had cried and sulked for hours as she ignored him. He couldn't even remember what he'd done now but the memory of the punishment was still there and now he felt guilt at remembering it. As though what had happened since should have wiped all the bad memories of her and his dad. Like there should only be good things left.

It hadn't been a good day.

But the world didn't stop for bad days. He'd have liked to curl up under the duvet and mope and let the day pass him by. Instead he had to get up and go to work and put on the best fake smile he had and pretend that he was happy about it.

Then he'd had to walk home because he didn't have the money for the bus. It had been raining and freezing and by the time he got through the door he was just about ready to give up.

Wanda had taken one look at him and wrapped him up in her arms, even though he was dripping wet. She'd sent him to the shower while she made hot drinks for them. Then, when he was dry, she'd curled up with him on the couch and let him lie silently with his head on her stomach until it was time for her to go to work.

Some days he really, really loved his sister.

Once she was gone he logged onto the computer and opened up the browser, navigating straight to the site like he had for the last few days. Clint had already sent him an hello. Of the few who'd replied to Pietro's first message, Clint was the only one stupid enough to still be talking. To Wanda. Because he wanted to sleep with her.

Suddenly the entire thing wasn't very funny anymore. Wanda might be a pain but she was still his sister and there were limits.

He was going to get rid of the account. He'd delete it and she'd never know and that'd be it.

And then, just as he was hovering over the delete button, a message popped up. Clint, of course. Well, it wouldn't have been polite to let the old man go without saying goodbye.

Hawkguy: Hey.  
ScarletBitch: Hello.  
Hawkguy: How has your day been?  
ScarletBitch: Honestly, not so good.

Pietro let his finger hover over the reply for a second before he sent it. He hadn't meant to type that but Clint had never asked before, he normally went straight for the flirty banter. It wasn't like it mattered if he told Clint. He'd never talk to Clint again after today anyway.

Hawkguy: I'm sorry.  
Hawkguy: Want to tell me about it?  
Scarletbitch: Just a bad day, you know.  
Scarletbitch: I can't stop remembering the bad things and then the rest of the day just...  
Hawkguy: That sucks.  
Hawkguy: I've have days like that too.  
Hawkguy: You got someone there with you?  
Scarletbitch: Nah.  
Scarletbitch: My brother was. He made me a drink and gave me a hug but he had to go to work.  
Hawkguy: It's good that you've got a brother who cares about you.  
Hawkguy: Mine's a bit of a loser.  
Scarletbitch: He's the best.  
Scarletbitch: We're twins. We've been through a lot together.  
Hawkguy: I'm glad you've got him.  
Hawkguy: Want to know what I do when I have a dark day?  
Scarletbitch: Go on.  
Hawkguy: I get the biggest blanket I can find and curl up under it and watch the silliest movie I can find.  
Scarletbitch: That sounds pretty good, actually.  
Hawkguy: Yeah. I have the best plans.  
Hawkguy: You want to watch a movie with me, then?  
Scarletbitch: I haven't got any.  
Scarletbitch: That you'd know.  
Hawkguy: You got netflix?  
Scarletbitch: No.  
Hawkguy: Dude, everyone should have Netflix.  
Scarletbitch: Well, the budget doesn't really run to that kind of thing.  
Hawkguy: Yeah, I've been there.  
Hawkguy: Okay.  
Hawkguy: I'm gonna set you up an account. Then we can watch something together.  
Scarletbitch: You don't need to do that.  
Hawkguy: I know. But you're not having a good day and sometimes it just needs one person to try to make the day not suck as much.  
Hawkguy: So watch a stupid movie with me and stop arguing.  
Scarletbitch: Yes boss.  
Hawkguy: That's more like it.  
Hawkguy: Go find a warm blanket. I'll have your account ready when you get back.

***

Clint didn't get round to deleting his account that night. Tony's account. He'd meant to, he really had. But there had been something vulnerable about Wanda. He hadn't liked the thought of telling the kid their entire interaction had been a lie and leaving, not when she was already hurting and she was being so damn open with him. So he hadn't meant to but he'd ended up talking to her. Ended up buying her a netflix account. Ended up laughing at her stupid one-liners to some mindless action movie. Found himself enjoying himself. And then it was too late to go deleting his account when they'd been talking that long.

But he would delete it next time, definitely.

***

Pietro didn't get round to deleting his account that night. Wanda's account. He'd meant to, he really had. But there had been something different about Clint. The guy had gone from a string of bad pickup lines to sounding like he actually cared and somehow Clint'd managed, somewhere in their mocking of bad American films, to make Pietro actually feel better.

But he would delete it next time, definitely.


	2. Chapter 2

Six months later.

***

Clint logged on to the dating site and skipped straight to his ongoing conversation with Wanda. She wasn’t online at the moment but he’d kind of expected that. She was working today and even if she weren’t she wouldn’t have been online until her brother went out to his bar job, but Clint couldn’t help but check anyway. 

Of course, even if she was home and her brother was out she probably wouldn’t be on this early. The neighbours might notice she was stealing their unsecured wifi and password it. Clint'd offered to pay for their internet but she'd turned him down. She was a good kid. Independent. Made him wonder why she'd ended up on a site like this in the first place.

While he was waiting he grabbed a pen and started jotting down the things he wanted to tell her about. It wasn't like he could talk plainly, of course. She accepted the vague lie that he worked in an office and asked nothing more and he was grateful of that. It wasn’t like he could just randomly drop doom-dots into the conversation. But he could tell her about "Tony from R&D" being an ass who messed with his stuff. He could complain that his best friend was away on business AGAIN. He could tell her about the prank he'd pulled on Agent Carmichael by the water cooler (he just had to leave out the bit with the arrows).

Then maybe they could watch some TV or something. Relax.

Though, maybe, tonight was the night. Maybe he should finally ask the thing he'd been meaning to ask for weeks.

After all, it'd be awesome to talk to Wanda about all that stuff via text. It'd be even better to ACTUALLY talk to her about it.

***

Pietro came in and headed straight to the computer. Wanda was moving around in her bedroom but he ignored her for now. They'd be time for talking to her later.  
He'd been waiting for hours to tell Clint a joke he'd heard. He'd spent the better part of the his shift repeating it over and over to himself until he'd finally found five minutes to scribble it on the back of a napkin. He'd heard it and it had just made him think of Clint so he'd had to cling to it.

Clint was already online so he sent a message, biting down on the little flutter of excitement.

It was possible, just maybe, he was in a little bit too far with this thing with Clint. Especially since he hadn’t confessed to Clint yet that he was Pietro, not Wanda. He was going to tell him, he was. Any day now. He was sure it'd be fine. After all, Clint had been talking to him for six months now. They had six months of stories and bad TV and confessions and it wouldn't matter.

Pietro'd even sent a picture of himself and Wanda together as a prelude to telling Clint, once, and instead they'd just got kind of diverted into talking about siblings. Pietro had some opinions of Clint's brother that weren't very kind.

A reply flashed up and he opened it.

Scarletbitch: Hello.  
Hawkguy: Hey.  
Hawkguy: Look, before we get into the entire talking about our day thing there's just something I want to ask. Can I phone you?  
Scarletbitch: Why?  
Hawkguy: Well, I want to hear your voice?  
Scarletbitch: It's not a good voice. I have a really strong accent. You probably won't even understand.  
Hawkguy: I won't mind.  
Hawkguy: I just want to chat.  
Hawkguy: I really like talking to you, Wanda. Isn't this where it goes next? Really talking?

Pietro was an idiot. A class A idiot. He'd been so content that he hadn't thought about a next level. Hadn't thought that Clint would someday want something more than what they already had.

Hadn't thought that his hand would be forced.

But there really weren't so many ways he could say no to that. Not without sounding like he wanted to break things of or he wasn't serious. And he was serious. About Clint. Probably. Maybe. Oh god, yes, he was.

Scarletbitch: Okay.  
Scarletbitch: This is my number, but give me five minutes, okay?

He picked up his phone then hesitated. He couldn't just answer. It'd be too much. Just being all casual, oh hey, like it was nothing. It clearly wasn't just nothing.  
He needed...he needed to ease Clint into the idea of him. Needed to let Clint get used to the idea that he'd really been talking to Pietro.

He needed Wanda to answer the phone.

He grabbed the thing and ran to her room as fast as he could, barging straight in. She looked at him, lipstick halfway to her lips. He didn't hesitate, just thrust the phone into her hands.

"A guy called Clint is about to phone. He's an American. I maybe set up an internet dating site account as you to piss you off but then I kind of got invested in him but I never did get around to telling him he was talking to me and not you so please answer the phone and break the truth to him gently and pass it to me."

"You are an idiot," Wanda said just as the phone rang. She picked it up anyway.

"Hello," she said. Clint replied and Pietro couldn't hear but then she moved the phone away from her ear and pressed the speakerphone option.

"Yes," she said, calmly. "This is Wanda."

"It's good to finally hear your voice," Clint said, and Pietro's heart was in his throat. He shouldn't be so nervous about this, he really shouldn't. He and Clint spoke every day, this wasn't going to change much.

"You've never spoken to me before."

"Wanda!"

"That was Pietro," she said, shooting him a dark look. "My idiot brother. He's the one you've been talking to all this time."

"Your brother?" Clint asked, and he sounded so distantly suddenly. Pietro went to grab the phone, to apologize, but Wander pulled it away.

"Yes. He made an account to play a joke on me, apparently, and then took it too far like he always does. I can only apologise for his idiocy."

"It isn't like that," Pietro said, making another grab for the phone. "You explained it wrong. Give the phone to me."

"If you wanted it explained your way you should have done it yourself," she said with a shrug, handing the phone back to him. A glance told him that Clint had hung up. Damnit, Clint had hung up. Clint probably thought the entire thing was a joke and maybe it had started out that way but it wasn't that way now. It wasn't.

"He hung up," Pietro said accusingly, waving the phone at Wanda.

"What else did you expect him to do?"

“I don’t know,” Pietro admitted, deflating a little. “Listen to me, at least. I mean, I know I lied to him but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow and he blushed a little but didn’t back down from what he’d said. He did care about Clint. Thought about him a lot. This was...disappointing but he was sure that once he explained himself Clint would understand.

“I didn’t realise he meant something to you,” Wanda said, her voice suddenly soft. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I should have told him sooner. You think it’s too late?”

“It’s never too late if you really care about him.”

“You’re right,” Pietro said, unlocking his phone. “I’ll call him back.”

“You have the money for a phone call to America?”

He cursed because, no, he didn’t have that money. He barely had the money to keep himself fed and a roof over his head. What was he going to do?

“You’re panicking. Think clearly. How do you normally talk to him.”

She was right. Of course she was right. He was running to the computer without thinking about it. Drafting the letter in the open chat box. Explaining. The told Clint that he’d never meant for it to go this far but hadn’t told him because he’d become attached. He told Clint that he knew it was weird and it’d probably take time for them to adjust but Pietro thought they really had something. He told Clint he thought they might still really have something.

He hit send.

An error message flashed up. Dread settled in, Pietro had never gotten an error message before. He copied the apology and went to Clint’s page only…

Only Clint’s page was gone. Just like that. No way to follow him, nowhere else to go.

***

Clint sat, staring at the deleted profile notification. He felt nothing, really. He’d been lied to. He was aware that he should have been angry. Should have been shouting or hitting things. Should have been feeling something. Anything but sitting here staring vacantly at his computer.

It had been a lie. All of it. He’d thought there was really something there and all the time it was some asshole kid playing a joke on his sister.

Clint was never going to talk to anyone ever again. People couldn’t be trusted.

Only that didn’t make sense, not really. He’d talked to this kid, Pietro, every day. For hours. He’d put hours of his life into this kid and nobody could fake it that much, right? Nobody could lie that much? A few weeks, yeah. That would be a joke. Like what Tony had done in the begining with him. A stupid joke. But months. They’d been talking for months.

What if, when Wanda had said he’d let it get out of hand, she meant that Pietro had let it get out of hand in the same way Clint’d let it get out of hand. What if Pietro had started to feel something too. Hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to tell Clint the truth because…

Because Clint might freak out, like he had done. Because Clint might break off all contact, like he had done.

But then that brought him right back to the first thing that’d been stuck in his head after the phone call.

All these months, all this effort, this fondness, it had been a guy.

Clint Barton was straight. He’d never looked at a guy like that. Never. Never thought about it, even. It wasn’t that he had something against gay people, it just wasn’t him. He wasn’t gay. He’d only ever dated women, and he’d done a lot of that. He wasn’t closeted. Wasn’t even questioning.

So why did he just feel like he’d made a huge mistake?

He navigated quickly to the folder where he’d saved the few pictures Wanda had sent him. One of her alone, one of her with her brother. Only it hadn’t been her, it’d been him. Clint stopped and looked at the kid, really looked at him. He looked like a guy. Just a normal guy. Clint didn’t feel particularly attracted to him.

Then why did he still feel attached to ScarletBitch?

Hell, the entire thing was probably a lie. Pietro probably didn’t even work in a cafe. Probably wasn’t struggling for money. Probably didn’t enjoy running. Probably didn’t have a perfect sense of humour. Probably wasn't as damaged as he’d sometimes hinted, hurting in deep ways that made Clint want to hold him and sooth all the hurt away.

Had made Clint want to hold Wanda and sooth all the hurt away. Before he’d known. Because he didn’t like Pietro like that. Because he wasn’t gay.

He closed the picture quickly and deleted it. Then, in a fit of panic, went into his recycle bin and retrieved it.

There was no reason to rush. No point in panicking. He just had to...had to sit tight. Stay calm. In a couple of days he’d forget all about this. Go out to a bar and find someone to talk to, make them laugh, take them home.

He didn’t need Pietro. Not one bit.

***

“I haven’t been moping,” Pietro protested, dragging his feet along the pavement. “You’re exaggerating.”

“You’ve been moping ever since your American dumped you.”

“He didn’t dump me.”

“Well, no, because you were never man enough to ask him to date you in the first place. Either way, you’re moping. Getting out will do you good.”

“Getting out won’t do me any good,” Pietro said. He’d spent the week since Clint’s phone call inside. He’d gone out for work, of course, he needed to eat. If faking a smile had been harder than usual, well, he didn’t think about that too much. Everyone had rough patches. He’d been spending his time watching at much Netflix as he could, trying to make the most of it before Clint inevitably cancelled the subscription. If he had to bite down on the itch in his fingers to type his responses to the episodes to Clint, well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

“We’re here anyway,” Wanda said, reaching over to link her arm through his. “These are good people, Pietro. They’ll understand.”

He nodded and let her guide him into the abandoned warehouse. There was a small group already gathered inside but he ignored them, sticking close to Wanda’s side instead. They didn’t seem to notice him which could have been insulting on a better day.

Wanda nodded at a few of them, moving to a space to the left of the room. They acknowledged her but didn’t come over to chat.

“Nice friends you have,” he muttered in her ear.

“They’re not friends. Think of them as associates.”

“Very comforting,” Pietro grumbled, glaring at the closest associate. He studiously ignored Pietro, choose to examine his fingernails instead.

Then a man entered the building.

He came in through the front door, not the side door everyone else had used, making his entrance excessively dramatic. As soon as he arrived the assembled masses turned their eyes to look at him. Pietro kept his own eyes down.

Then the man started to talk. He was persuasive in a way Pietro hadn’t seen in awhile. He talked about revolution. He talked about overthrowing the imperialist American war machine. He talked about taking a stand for their country, the country they loved. He talked about them as symbols. Not as martyrs but as something better. Something bright and shining.

He talked about giving them powers. He admitted the risks, but emphasised the gains. What they could do with only a little strength. After all, even Captain America was only human under the serum. They could be better.

He would make them better.

He left them with the promise that he’d return the next night, telling anyone who wanted to come with him to bring their bags. Then he left again just as dramatically as he’d arrived.

Pietro didn’t know what to say. What to think. Mostly he was just angry, but he was angry all the time these days. What was a little more anger?

“What do you think?” Wanda asked, pressing up against him in the cold street.

“I didn’t know this was the kind of person you were hanging out with.”

“No, I didn’t want you to,” Wanda said. “But what do you think, now I have shown you?”

“You want to take his offer?” Pietro said, though it wasn’t really a question. He could see from the way her face lit up that she did. She’d never quite stopped dreaming of revenge like he did. He’d accepted somewhere in his teens that maybe just staying alive was all he could do to say fuck you to the people who’d tried to kill them. Staying alive and getting what joy they could in life. Wanda has never been content with that.

“Think,” she whispered into his ear. “We could be superheroes. We could change the world.”

“We could die.”

“You think I’d let us die? We can’t die, not after all this, Pietro. We’re invincible. I don’t think it’ll be easy but won’t it be worth it?”

“Wanda…”

“You swore to me years ago that one day we’d make Tony Stark pay. Make him feel every second of the fear we felt when his bomb sat right by us. Do you mean to take that back?”

“No. I just...you do realise your new friend is a Nazi?”

“HYDRA, technically,” Wanda said with a careless shrug. “It’s all semantics, anyway. We’re not going to join him, Pietro. We’re going to use him. He can make us stronger. Tougher. Bigger than ourselves. And when he’s done that, who will stop us doing exactly what we want? How will he control us?”

“You have a point,” Pietro said, something strangely like hope stirring in his belly. “You think we can really do it?”

“I know we can. Maybe we’re the only ones who can. I mean, who wants this more than us?”

“Nobody,” Pietro said. Then he nodded. She was right. It was a risk but if it worked the gains would be huge. What was his life washing dishes and waiting tables and smiling at stupid tourists compared to that?

It wasn’t like he had anything else, anyway. Clint was gone. They had no family. Why not try it?

“Good,” Wanda said, clearly noticing the change in his expression. “Let’s go home and pack. We have new lives to go to.”

***

Clint knew that he pretty much sucked at making plans but he could at least, normally, manage to get a few things right. Like, when he went out to drown his sorrows and pick up a girl for a easy, no-strings kind of thing after finding out his maybe internet girlfriend was actually a guy called Pietro who’d been playing a joke, well, the universe was meant to hand him a pretty sympathetic girl who had a kinky side.

And he’d tried. He had. He’d chatted to girls. Smiled at them. Some of them had seemed willing but then he’d think about Pietro, stupid fucking Pietro, and he just couldn’t commit.

The problem was, as much as it’d never been anything outside chat rooms, he’d felt like he’d known Pietro better than anyone. Like Pietro knew him. Like they had a thing. A real connection. To find out that, as far as Pietro was concerned, it was all a joke…

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. Probably both.

Of course it was Natasha who found him, lost in the bottom of a beer bottle. She gave him a pitying look. The one he hated. The one that said he was being a burden on her time and resources and should get his act together.

“Nobody told you to come,” he grumbled, putting his beer down. It was probably best he didn’t finish the dregs anyway.

“So I’m meant to let you drown yourself?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Tempting, but Fury would never let me hear the end of it.”

“I thought you were in Washington with Rogers?”

“I was,” Natasha said, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “Now, are you doing to tell me about it willingly or am I going to have to engage in some cognitive recalibration.”

He laughed though it wasn’t really funny. Let her pull him from his stool and out of the door. A few guys gave her the eye so he put his arms around her and she let him. He liked when they walked like this. Close. Like a sister. Early on he’d thought that maybe Natasha would be the one he was meant to spend his life with but she’d quickly taken that idea away from him. Well, in the romantic sense. He didn’t doubt that she’d be with him for the rest of his life as some kind of heterosexual life partner.

“So,” he said as she dumped him into the passenger seat of her car. He couldn’t look as drunk as he felt, then, or she’d never let him ride in here. “There was this girl.”

“It’s always a girl with you, Barton,” she said, sliding behind the wheel, and before she could finish her smart ass comment it suddenly hit him how fucking ridiculous his entire life was and he started to laugh. Once he’d started it was like a flood, he couldn’t stop it. Laughter just came running out of him because it was so damn funny. He was Clint Barton, well known danger to the female population. He’d been married twice. He fell in love in a heartbeat. He loved women. Adored women. And look at him.

“Okay,” Natasha said, apparently unimpressed that this laughter seemed to involve tears. “I think you’d better explain.”

“She was...fuck, so it was Tony’s fault. He signed me up to this Russian Bride style dating website and set me up chatting with this kid called Wanda. She was cute. He dumped it in my lap and I tried to tell her I was breaking up with her but I couldn’t and…”

“And she suckered you in and stole your money?”

“I wish it was that simple, Nat,” he said. He could replace money. Had enough of it with the job and his lifestyle.

“Go on.”

“So, I got to chatting with this kid and I started to really like them. Like, too much, you know? Like I do. So I asked if we could phone instead of messaging. And they said yes, so I phoned. And Wanda picked up. Talked to me exactly long enough to tell me that I’d not been talking to her but her idiot twin brother who thought it was a joke.”

There was a second of silence and then Natasha was the one cracking up. It was suddenly less funny when she was laughing at him and he straightened up and frowned at her until she got it under control. To her credit it really didn’t take her long.

“Alright,” she said, wiping at her eyes. “So, this isn’t girl trouble. It’s boy trouble.”

“No. It isn’t. Because I don’t date boys.”

“Then what have you been doing?”

“...chatting. Not dating.”

“Did you even date Bobby? As far as I could work out you met her and married her in a few hours.”

“Days,” Clint corrected, because he had a reputation. “But it’s irrelevant, I don’t date boys.”

“Show me a picture of him.”

“Alright,” Clint said, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. He quickly found the picture, Pietro and Wanda. He’d spent enough time looking at it since he’d found out the truth. He zoomed in on Pietro then turned to Nat who was giving him a knocking look.

“What?”

“You have a picture of him on your phone. You’re in deep, Clint Barton.”

“I don’t…” he started, but she was kind of right. It he hadn't been at least contemplating the idea of giving the thing with Pietro a try he’d have deleted the photo. If he didn’t miss the little shit. If he didn’t still see things and light up with the idea of telling the kid about them then realise it wasn’t going to happen.

“So you’ve never had a boy before. Does it matter? You know I don’t believe in love like you do but, Clint, if there’s a chance of something here that’ll make your life less terrible for a while then grab it with both hands.”

“It was a joke to him…”

“What did this sister say exactly?”

“I don’t know. Something about it being a joke and getting out of hand…”

“Sounds like getting out of hand is what happened to you, too.”

And, yeah, that kind of made sense. Or maybe he just wanted it too. A lot of him very badly wanted it to. Wanted Pietro to feel like he did, in too deep and a bit scared but like this could be something awesome if they tried. He wanted to be able to phone Pietro and talk to him. Any excuse. Any possibility.

“Shit, Nat, I think I’m a bit gay for this kid.”

“I know you are,” Nat said, reaching across and ruffling his hair. “Phone him. When you’re sober, preferably. The worst that can happen is you find out it was all a joke and he’s moved on and at least you know. Just don’t send him money.”

“I won’t,” Clint groaned, lifting his phone to look at Pietro again. Kid wasn’t bad looking. Looked pretty good, really. So Clint would phone. When he was home. And sober. And maybe they’d work something out.

He was nearly 40 after all. If he was going to freak out and start internet dating a eastern European boy after being 100% straight before, this was the time in his life to give it a try.

***

Pietro turned his phone over and over in his hand. His entire life (well, the parts of it worth taking) were already packed up into the duffle bag at his feet and it was depressing how little space the entire thing took up. He knew he wasn’t going to need a van to move out but he’d not realised just how little he owned.

How easy it was going to be to just disappear.

Wanda had been unable to contain her excitement. Their vengeance was so close now. She talked like there were no risks. Like their coming out of this strong enough to bring Tony Stark down was a simple and foregone conclusion.

And maybe it was. She was right, he did need to be taken down. He’d killed their parents. Pietro’s life would be so different in so many ways if Tony Stark had never been born. Stark deserved to hurt the way they had. Deserved to feel all the fear and uncertainty and pain that had been Pietro’s companion since he was a child.

He just wished he could talk to Clint one last time.

He knew it was a stupid wish. He knew Clint had made it quite clear what he thought of Pietro. That he never wanted to talk again. And Pietro had lied, he understood that. Understood that it was Clint’s right to walk away and never speak to him again.

He just wished…

It wasn’t like he thought Clint would have a magical solution to all this, but if he talked to Clint he might be able to clear his head. Might be able to work out what it was about this entire thing that was bugging him. Talking to Clint had always helped.

But Clint didn’t want him.

He glanced at the time on his phone again. Wanda would be getting out of work soon, and they’d be heading over there. To give themselves over to some freaking neo-nazis to be turned into god knew what.

And he knew Wanda was right, they weren’t agreeing with them, they were using them. That didn’t mean he sat any more comfortably in his skin.

When he had heat vision or whatever the hell they ended up giving him he was going to burn them to the ground. He and Wanda together. He’d make them regret ever thinking they could control the Maximoff twins.

And there it was, the bitter stone of hatred in his stomach. The thing that’d been missing. The thing that had fueled him for so long.

He hated HYDRA.

He hated Tony Stark.

He really fucking hated Clint Barton who couldn't even be bothered to talk to him. Not even once.

He threw his phone down on the bed. Gabbed his bag. He’d take Wanda’s bag too, meet her from work. He couldn’t sit here stewing any more. He needed to act while the anger was still cold in him. Needed to forget all the kind things Clint had done, they didn’t mean shit now. Clint had rejected him and that was all that mattered. All he needed to focus on.

He walked out the door and didn’t look back.

Twenty minutes later, his phone began to ring.


	3. Chapter 3

Pietro's cells were humming. Every last one of them was humming to it's own damn tune and he was going to vibrate apart with it. He was going to fly into a cloud of atoms any minute now.

The doctor came and ran experiments. When they were in the room Pietro had to be very still. Sometimes his movements got away from him. He once twitched his finger and ended up punching someone in the face, his arm moved so fast. They sedated him for a while after that and he hated it. Hated the idea of what they might do to him while he was helpless and unconscious.

He hated everyone there except Wanda. He'd have run right out the door if he had any kind of control over himself. He'd walked into this thinking that he could control this situation, that the process would be simple and that they would emerge triumphant, burning everything in their wake. Instead he was left with a reality where his own body betrayed him with every twitch and he relied on a nurse provided by HYDRA just to eat. 

Sometimes, at night, he heard Wanda screaming through the walls. It was almost comforting to know she was near. Alive.

He didn't worry too much. She was a survivor, just like him. It was nice to have the little reminder, though.

***

It took almost two months before he could walk again without his legs getting away from him. Being able to make it to the bathroom without incident was exhilarating. Once he managed to slow down, controlling being fast seemed to be easier. Like it was the slow part that was the problem all along.

They let him see Wanda after three months. She was pale and jittery and she read his mind by accident. Reached into him and showed him his worst fear and then sat and cried with him after because she never meant to. She just couldn't control it yet. He put his arms around her and didn't say anything.

It took a few more days to realise all the other volunteers were dead. All of them. There were fourteen of them at the start, now only two. Pietro didn't ask how they died. Didn't think he could bear to know. They were good people. He’d slept with one of the girls. She was young and bright and full of hope.

***

After a time, HYDRA stop trying to separate them. They realised that, with their gifts, the twins would find their way back to each other, somehow.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are we going to talk about this?" Clint asked.

"Why?" Pietro replied, drumming his fingers impossibly fast against the table. "I thought not talking was your thing."

"We don’t have time for being emotionally constipated," Clint said. He hoped he managed to keep his voice something like neutral but he didn't think it was likely. "Look, I get that you have a problem with me but we're about to walk in there against Ultron. We are hilariously outmatched here. I need to know that what's between us isn't going to affect what goes on out there."

"I'll have you know that I can control my emotions."

Pietro might have believed that but Clint had seen the double take when the little shit had realised who, exactly, Clint was. Probably something like the expression Clint had made when he realised that their new enemy was an old friend. Pietro'd been even more of a sarcastic little shit that he normally was ever since. Clint got it, he did. Things weren't okay in any sense right now and of all the reunions he could have imagined for them...But right now there were bigger concerns than their personal lives. 

And maybe Clint had spent the last six months wondering where Pietro had gone. Wondering if he was okay. If he'd found someone else to watch bad movies with. To share his days with. Clint'd stopped trying to call but he still had the photo on his phone.

But now wasn't the time to deal with any of that.

"Look, I just need to know..."

"You hung up on me, old man. I don't owe you anything."

"Yeah, and you spent months ignoring me trying to call you back so I think we're even on that."

"What?" Pietro said, and he genuinely looked shocked, though he covered it quickly. "Whatever, old man."

"I did," Clint said. "I left, like, 5 messages on your machine. I called a bunch more times too but you didn't pick up."

"Well, I was busy," Pietro said, gesturing down at himself and, ah, that explained some stuff. Whatever had been done it him, it had happened after Clint had known him. After Clint had left him. "There were a few days, though. Before we went. You didn't call."

"Yeah, well, it wasn't that easy."

"You need help dialing your phone or something?"

"Not that, you brat. I just...I'm straight, okay? I have never dated a guy and, sure, I can appreciate when a guy's attractive but that means shit. So really I should never have called you back at all because, for all you're acting like the wounded party here, I'm the only who was being lied to. And I shouldn't have called you back. I didn't have to. But I couldn't stop thinking about you, even when I knew you were a guy and not a girl. So yeah, it took me a few days to call you back. Forgive me for taking a couple of days to reevaluate my entire sexuality for you, you little shit."

"You know, being bi isn't that big a deal."

"Not for you, maybe. But for me it is. It's a massive deal. I mean, you get to my age and you think you have these things worked out. You think that sexuality is a fixed kind of thing and you have your type, scarily competent women who can kill you, and you’re set. But then there was you. And it’s not like I asked to question my sexuality. Not like I wanted to find out that maybe the kind of person I’m attracted to is a bit more fluid than I first thought. But I phoned you back."

"You phoned me back," Pietro said, then he seemed to catch on to what that meant and his face did a complicated dance while he tried to process. Tried to swallow the idea that Clint had reevaluated his sexuality and everything he'd ever thought he was against Pietro and in the end decided that he really wasn't as straight as all that after all.

"Oh," Pietro said, hand reaching for Clint’s.

Then there was shouting in the distance and all hell broke loose.

***

After the battle, Clint collapsed on the S.H.I.E.L.D. transport. Glad to be alive, glad to be getting away. He ached in ways he didn't think a body could ache and he was seriously starting to re-evaluate this entire being a superhero thing. He really wasn't as young as he used to be.

He must have drifted for a while as he found himself jerking awake when someone sat down next to him. He looked up to find Pietro leaning over him, looking just as tired as Clint felt.

"You giving up already, old man?"

"Given up," Clint agreed. "Unless you're going to tell me there's another robot army coming?"

"Nope, not right now."

Clint pushed himself into an upright position - took a really good look at Pietro. The guy had saved his life a couple of times out there. There'd been that kid at the end. Clint had always been a sucker for kids in danger. Clint had really thought he was going to die there. If he had to die, saving a kid was a good way to go. But Pietro had got there just in time, somehow saved them all. The little shit.

And he looked so tired and so worn down that Clint couldn't help but reach for him. Couldn't help but cup the other man's cheek, watch as Pietro lent into it, letting his eyes drift closed. And, shit, maybe this was the worst idea he'd ever had. This kid was going to be the death of him.

But it had been six months and Clint hadn't stopped thinking about him. Hadn't stopped hoping for an email or a phone call. It was probably going to end in disaster but they'd fought an army of homicidal robots together and survived so maybe they were just meant to be.

So he leant in for a kiss. Not the first time he'd kissed a man, there'd been drunken dares, but the first time he'd meant it. And it was a little awkward and a little dry but, given the circumstances, it was damn near perfect.

Pietro chucked to himself when it finished, then turned and lay his head on Clint's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, old man."

"Yeah, I think I'm going to..."

***

Pietro didn't see Clint for nearly two months after the helicarrier. It wasn't intentional but it was good, in a way. They both had a lot of things to be doing. Sokovia was a mess but it was home so Pietro spent a lot of time doing what he could to put it right. Wanda helped, too. Between them they made a big difference and if people didn't talk to them casually like they used to, avoided their eyes and kept away, that was okay. He understood.

Clint came over a few times to help but they always seemed to miss each other. Clint was mostly busy with the Avengers, setting up the new headquarters they were building. They seemed to have finally learnt from Ultron that they couldn't face the world alone, they needed a support network behind them.

Clint phoned every night, though. E-mailed through the day. It was like it used to be in a lot of ways and Pietro was oddly glad for it. He felt like, for the first time in a long time, he could actually catch his breath. He ended up telling Clint about getting his powers, about how they'd walked into it knowing it was bad but not how bad. How it had felt to be torn apart and put back together.

Then Clint had told him about a god named Loki and they'd ended up getting very drunk together down the phone.

When the formal invitation to join the Avengers had arrived, Pietro and Wanda had talked about it before saying yes. Pietro would be lying if he said Clint wasn't mentioned in that conversation.

Which led, of course, to today. His first day at Avengers HQ. They'd arrived, been led through a kind of orientation by a scarily efficient woman named Maria Hill, they were shown to their rooms. And now he waited.

Because Clint was here and Pietro was here and Clint would come to see him.

Only what if Clint didn't? Pietro wasn’t an idiot and some of their conversation since they’d started talking again had opened his eyes to just how big a deal this was for Clint. Pietro’d always been pretty flexible about the gender of his sexual partners, the idea that other people weren’t just seemed odd. It was only a body. But, well, he was asking Clint to interact with his body…

But things had been going so well. They’d been talking. Clint had even talked to Wanda a little. They were getting on well together. There was no way, just no way, he was wrong about this. Clint was going to be here.

Only maybe he wasn’t.

Basically, Pietro was a ball of nerves. He’d normally go out and run it off or work it off but he’d been kind of planning to fuck his nerves out of his system tonight and to do that he needed a partner (or, well, he didn’t, but there was no point in Clint turning up after the main event).

When the knock at the door finally came Pietro nearly jumped out of his skin. Then nearly injured himself in the rush to get there and answer the door. 

He made himself wait for a few seconds before he opened the door. He didn’t want to look like he’d been lying there waiting for Clint to arrive, even if that was what he had been doing. It felt like giving too much away to admit it. Too much like showing his hand early. Pietro really didn't know what he'd do if this all imploded on him. If he'd misread all those phone calls and the kiss. But how in the hell did you misread a kiss?

If anyone could, though, he could.

Clint was waiting outside the door. He looked tired. Scruffy. Like he’d been working too hard. For a second Pietro was almost offended that Clint clearly hadn’t made an effort to dress up but, then, it wasn’t like Pietro had dressed up. 

Still, he looked up and smile and that smile. Pietro should have had better control but he moved at super-speed almost without meaning to, grabbing Clint and pulling him in, kissing him. The kiss was too fast and too awkward and terrible, so terrible, until Clint was suddenly gripping Pietro’s hips. Holding him tight and still and it was somehow easier to control himself. To breathe. To slow his movements down and let Clint guide him. Let their mouths slide together naturally and gently and suddenly it was good, just like Pietro had always known it would be.

"Hey," Clint said, pulling back a little. "Good to see you too."

"Less talking, more stripping," Pietro said, tugging at Clint's top. Clint huffed out a little laugh but he lifted lifted his arms and a second later Pietro had him naked.

And damn but Pietro could hardly control his hands. He wanted a million things, to kiss and to talk and to be reassured that this was real, that Clint wanted this. They’d talked about it on the phone, about wanting each other, but there was the fear there that maybe they’d be here together and Clint would realise that maybe he was 100% straight after all. 

But right now Pietro didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to press in close. To touch Clint all over. To drown in him. 

And he did until Clint caught his hands, tugging them together and pressing kisses to the backs of them. "Okay, I'm laying a ground rule," Clint said, "no super-speed in the bedroom."

And honestly Pietro hadn’t realised that he WAS using his speed that much, but, yeah. He grinned and leant in to nip at Clint’s neck. "You're just worried you won't be able to keep up."

"Worried you might finish before I even start."

"I can last all night," Pietro said, though he wasn’t sure he meant it. He shook off Clint’s hold and skated his hands down Clint’s chest, coming to rest at his fly. Clint intercepted Pietro’s hands, pulling them back up again. 

"I bet you can, but not going that fast."

"You have no stamina, old man."

"Just means I have to make the most of the time we get. Plus, I don't really want friction burns on my cock."

"Yeah, that'd be a pain," Pietro agreed. He'd managed to do that a few times when he'd first got his super-speed. It was hard to control it in the moment but he was getting better. And anyway, if he strained Clint's cock or something that would be counter-productive.

But there was still the anxiety there, the nerves driving him to go faster. There was desire, of course. He’d wanted so long and Clint was here and naked but…

...but what if Clint really did change his mind. Or Pietro did something wrong. It was like his traitorous body thought that if he rushed through this he’d own Clint somehow, bind them together. That Clint wouldn’t be able to change his mind and leave. 

“Hey,” Clint said, voice softer. Pietro looked up and Clint leant in for a quick, gentle kiss. “You want to tell me what’s really bothering you?” 

“I just…” Pietro said, then he stopped. There were a million lies he could have told that would have satisfied Clint. Even some half-truths about how hot Clint was that would have flattered Clint into forgetting that anything was wrong. 

But he’d probably done his share of lying to Clint. About important shit, at least. “I’m just worried that, you know, you’ll realise that maybe you are straight after all.” 

“Idiot,” Clint said, affectionately. “I think we’re past that. I’m not going to run away from you now. This is new but I’m all for new experiences. And, besides, I maybe did some research.” 

"Research," Pietro said, relaxing a little. "You mean you watched a little porn. Did you think of me when you touched yourself?"

"Well, I've never thought of any other man while I touch myself."

And that was hotter than it had any right to be. “And if you don’t enjoy practicing what you learnt it?” 

“Then we talk and we work it out. Stop worrying, won’t you? This is meant to be fun.” He leant in for another kiss and Pietro let him. Clint's naked torso was hot and firm and Pietro reclaimed his hands to let them roam, running over the plane of Clint's stomach, down his arms, feeling the muscles there. Pietro had done well finding this one.

It took a while for Clint to start some exploring of his own but when he did he wasn't as hesitant about it as Pietro had worried he might be. Maybe Pietro had been wrong to worry. After all, Clint was the kind of guy who, when he decided to do something, gave it 110%. 

"You okay, old man?" he asked against Clint's lips. 

"Fucking brilliant," Clint said, sliding his hands down to cup Pietro's ass.

Pietro moved quickly to mirror the position. It brought their cocks together and Clint gasped as Pietro regained his mouth for a filthy, open kiss. Pietro savoured it for a few seconds before he started tugging at Clint, urging him forward. Clint didn't take much encouraging. He moved with Pietro for a few steps then pulled back, heading over to the bed himself and Pietro used his super speed (because Clint wasn't the boss of him) to yank his top off before joining Clint on the bed.

He thought about lying beside him, didn't want to spook him, but Clint didn't seem spooked. Pietro could see the outline of his cock through his trousers and he was definitely more interested than spooked so he moved right in to straddle Clint's lap, lying down on top of him and pressing their naked bodies together. It was glorious. Clint was more built than Pietro was, stronger. He'd have liked Clint on top of him, pinning him down, pounding into him. There'd be time for that later though.

For now they kissed and Pietro reached down to fumble between them, unfastening both their flies as Clint's hands found his ass again and Pietro didn't know how Clint had gone so long thinking he was completely straight. No man who loved ass this much could be completely straight.

Once they were both out of their pants Pietro wrapped his hand around them both. It felt good. Clint was shorter than he was but thicker. They fit together well and Clint gasped at Pietro’s touch. Pietro almost gasped too, biting his lip to keep it in. Wanda was in the next room, after all, and god he didn't want think about her when Clint was hard and ready under him.

"Hey," Clint whispered against his lips. "Let me..."

Then he was reaching down. He cupped Pietro's balls first, rolling them gently and Pietro couldn't keep in the gasp at that, or help the shudder of pleasure that ran through him. Clint reached up and linked his fingers with Pietro's, wrapping both of their hands around their cocks and it was good. So good. Tight and warm and Clint seemed to know just the right amount of pressure. Clint's hand on his and their dicks pressed together, it was amazing.

"Hey," Clint said, free hand migrating back to Pietro's ass. "I thought you had stamina."

"It's been a while,” Pietro said, bucking into their joined hands. "Clint, please..."

"Yeah, I think it's about time," Clint said. He let go of Pietro's ass to reach up his back, pulling him forwards into a kiss and Pietro went, settling his weight onto Clint and thrusting helplessly into their hands and it had been too long and he had wanted this for so long. Thought about this long after he should have. Had Clint in high definition in his head since they' finally met. Clint touching him. Clint sucking him. Him sucking Clint. Clint bending him over and fucking him, Hard and fast, soft and tender, any way. Clint's lips, Clint's eyes, Clint's arms. God, just...

Pietro came with a gasp, spilling over their joined hands. Clint kissed him thoroughly then rolled them over so he was on top. Pietro went, sprawling out onto the mattress and letting Clint rearrange him. Letting Clint find the crease between his legs and hip, thrusting into it and grunting until he came. Quietly but with a lot of intense concentration on his face that was way hotter than it had any right to be.

And then, of course, Clint collapsed on top of him. Groaning and pressing him into the mattress. Pietro thought about protesting, about squirming out, but really this was exactly where he wanted Clint. Exactly where he'd wanted Clint for a long time. 

They lay there for a few minutes before Clint moved, sitting up and stretching and Pietro tried not to be disappointed. Of course, Clint was free to leave whenever he wanted. To do whatever he wanted. Just because Pietro might have liked to cuddle...

But then Clint was ambling to the bathroom, completely naked (and wasn’t that a nice sight) and coming back with a cloth. He cleaned Pietro gently with the most weirdly besotted smile on his face and, honestly, the expression on Pietro’s face probably wasn’t that different. Then Clint took the cloth back to the bathroom and came back, sliding under the covers and pulling Pietro to him. 

Pietro went and rested his head on Clint’s shoulder, letting his eyes drift closed for a second. Clint pressed a kiss to Pietro's forehead and it was so perfect, so damn achingly tender. It felt like they’d made love, somehow, which wasn’t what Pietro had planned to do when he fantasized but maybe it was really what they’d been building to all along. 

“So,” Pietro said. “You having any regrets?” 

“Not one.” 

“Good. Do you think you can start paying for my netflix again, then?” 

Clint laughed and pinched Pietro’s side and Pietro grinned and held him tighter and it was perfect.

“Babe, I never stopped.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Wallpaper/Banner] Pay For My Netflix and I'm Yours for Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5223047) by [Knowmefirst](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knowmefirst/pseuds/Knowmefirst)




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